


use me up, tie me down

by TheCarrot



Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [5]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Shameless Self Indulgenance, Topping from the Bottom, unrealiable pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: “You sure that’s a good idea?” Asks Will, his eyes narrowed, not dangerously, but with a clear hesitation in them.“I think it’s defiantly one of my better ones.” Santi confesses, and his confidence is clear, not scared at all as he presses the words into the skin of Will’s bicep. Sucks a mark there that leaves the other man groaning. “And if you say stop, we stop.”
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller
Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683301
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	use me up, tie me down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mssrj_335](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/gifts).



> BECAUSE MSSR IS THE BEST ENABLER EVER!!! AND THEY MADE A SUPER SEXY PLAYLIST WHILE WRITING ME THE BEST THINGS!!!
> 
> *dies*
> 
> Title taken from song on said [playlist](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2sTQpF-Bo9JvcoxdkNzMsAEkwwa8OGhJ)! :D

The thing is, Santiago doesn’t like being even.

He likes being owed, cashing in favours when least expected. Pulling out the smallest IOU in order to get his way. He’s petty like that.

So he sits back, carefully popping the old picture into a new frame and plans. Plans on how to tip the scales back in his favour, because if Will thinks he’s been a tease enough to warrant fucking nudes from the middle of a goddamn Boeing-- and fuck if Santiago’s heart doesn’t start thrumming a bit faster in his chest at the thought-- well Will has another thing coming to him. Santiago is damned now, can feel the coil of pleasure heat deep in his gut every time his phone dings, and he’s been disappointed every time this week when it’s just been a text from Fish or Benny, when it’s not another image of gorgeous pale skin, when it’s not of teasing fingers disappearing into the familiar waist of Wills jeans...

Santiago huffs and shifts on the hard wooden chair, spreading his legs under the table, cock aching for a bit of relief from the sudden tightness of his own jeans. But it gives him time to sit back and think of ways to get back under Ironhead’s skin. Get him really riled up.

By the time Santi is hanging the frame back up on its rightful place on the wall, a picture of he and Will at the beach a year ago, he has a plan slowly forming in his mind.

\--

Pope picks up exactly what he needs the next day, sly smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes that has the lady behind the counter grinning back at him with a knowing look as she rings up his purchase.

After that, it’s nothing to drag Will towards their bedroom after dinner with a tilt of his head, a bite of his lip and a few dirtier kisses than normal. 

Will, to his credit, huffs out a laugh and presses a hand to Santiago’s lower back, stopping their progress in the doorway. “What’re you plannin?” 

Santiago can’t keep the smug look off his face, he’s an easy tell to Will. Instead he leans forward and presses a question against the taller mans lips. “What makes you think I'm planning anything?” He chuckles. 

“ ‘Cause I know you.” Will rumbles back, fingers slipping under the t-shirt his hand is pressed against and he can feel Santiago shiver against the light touch. Dips his head to trail his way down that corded neck, teeth finding the spot there that never fails to make Pope squirm.

“Yeah, you do.” Santiago gasps, and isn’t that a wonderfully, terrifying thought. The short man shifts, unable to help grinding against Will’s hip and the hardness already growing there. “Got somethin’ for you.” 

Will lets his lips fall away with a laugh from the lovely bruise he was blooming to life on Santiago’s neck. “Course you do.” 

The blond pulls away however when he feels Santiago start to pull at the hem of his shirt. It’s an easy dance then, opulent in it’s familiarity, and Will leaves his shirt in a pile by the door, Santi’s following it easily as they make their way towards the bed.

Will’s only a little surprised when his knees hit the edge of the mattress, less so however when his lover smirks into their kiss and pushes him down. They shuffle upwards, Santiago’s deft fingers making short work of Will’s zipper, pulling his jeans down and away without pause.

“Jesus Pope,” Ironhead groans lowly when Santiago bends to nip his way along the jut of his newly exposed hipbone and Will feels the hint of teeth press that little bit more than they normally would and it makes the blood fizzle in his veins. “Get up here.” 

In true Santiago fashion tough, he doesn’t do as Will asks, slides backwards instead until the shorter man can look up and regard Will with a gleam in his eye.

“Trust me?” 

Will lets his head fall back onto the pillow to stare down at the dark haired man above him incredulously.

Santiago smirks back at him, propped up on all fours over the gleaming expanse of a shirtless Will, and in any other instance, he may feel a bit hurt at Will’s hesitance to answer. But in any situation other than this, neither of them would even have to ask. Would never have to wonder about a trust so readily implied; because of course Will trusts Pope. 

He trusts him with his life.

This is different though, this isn’t his life; and Will is smart, easily seeing the question for it’s second meaning and Santiago can see the calculating look in blue eyes, searching for a cause to the question Pope’s just needlessly asked.

Not the _‘do you trust me with your life’_ , but rather _‘do you trust me to take you to the edge without breaking you’_.

“You’re so goddamn dramatic,” Will sighs, breaking the tension easily and is treated to Santiago’s grin, one bright enough to burn out the sun. It’s only when the other man takes hold of his wrists and pins them next to his head that Will starts to wonder what he’s gotten himself into. 

“Stay.” Santiago orders with a final press. Then he’s leaning up, leaving the cradle of Will’s hips and reaching up to the headboard. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Will watches as Pope pulls out two silk looking scarves, pale blue that shines silver in the low lighting, each one already tied to the wooden frame and Will feels his stomach swoop at the hunger that grows in the dark eyes above him when Santiago drapes them over his prone wrists.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Asks Will, his eyes narrowed, not dangerously, but with a clear hesitation in them.

“I think it’s defiantly one of my better ones.” Santi confesses, and his confidence is clear, not scared at all as he presses the words into the skin of Will’s bicep. Sucks a mark there that leaves the other man groaning. “And if you say stop, we stop.” 

Will raises his arms away from that distracting mouth, takes hold of the silk scarves and runs his fingers over them. They’re soft and the colour is familiar in a strange way that he can’t place. He uses the end of one to brush over Pope’s chin before dropping his hands back up by the headboard, offer clear. “Well?”

Santiago pounces, fingers quicksilver and like lightening as they gather fabric, weaving it around skin and bone, pale blue circles again and again until Will feels the knots bite into his skin when he tugs on them to test them. Santiago sits back again, can’t help but stare down at Will for a moment, then two, just taking in the sight of him and it makes something more catch in his chest. 

He buries it, pushes it away for another time, swooping down to catch Will’s lips with his, and even this feels like so much more.

Will immediately tries to lower his hands, desperately wanting to dig his fingertips into the bare skin of Santiago’s waist, so used to being able to grab him and move him where he wants him. But he can’t. He can’t drag Pope down and grind against him until they’re both panting, inhibitions gone in a whirlwind of messy kisses.

All he can do is groan deep in his chest when Santiago starts to bite a swath down his chest, far to slow for Will’s liking, digging his teeth into the meat of Will’s pec with a telltale quirk to his lips. 

Ironhead lets his head fall back, overwhelmed, everything Santi is doing to him brought into bright focus when he tries to reciprocate and can’t. Arms held back by soft silk and the blond lets it wash over him, sinks into every kiss and drag of fingernails, brutally reminded that he’s trusted Santi to tie him down and not let it get out of hand. 

He only hopes that he doesn’t sink too far into that headspace and-

Santiago breaks Wills train of thought most thoroughly when his mouth sinks down onto his cock and Will lets out a strangles noise at the sudden _warm, wet, heat_. His hips trying to jackknife up off the bed, to get deeper if only Santiago would let go of the death grip he’s suddenly got on his hips. “Je-sus Christ…” 

There’ll be bruises there tomorrow, and it’s so much, too much. Will curses out a very vehement ‘fuck’, breathless pleas and quiet eagerness when Santiago takes him all the way down, tongue rubbing in all the ways that drive Will crazy. The careful hint of teeth that make him want to lace his fingers though greying curls and pull tight in retaliation. But he can’t; and Santiago takes him to that edge, pushes him right towards it but refuses to drag Will over, backs off every time he hears that telltale hitch in the breath above him. 

When Santiago does finally draw away, Will feels strung tight, his jaw aching from grinding his teeth together, trying to keep every fraying sense of control he can muster. His heart almost stops though when he pries his eyes open and looks down at smug brown eyes and red, spit slick and swollen lips.

Gods Will wants to ruin him. Feels ruined.

“Easy.” Santiago mutters, licking his lips before shuffling sideways off the bed, and Will twists, attempts to follow him, to get that mouth back where it belongs and finish this, but the scarves hold him back and the headboard creaks in warning. 

“Shh, you’re fine.” Pope adds, leaning over to brush a kiss over the skin of Wills wrist, right under where blue silk sits. 

Then he’s shucking his own pants, grabbing the lube and moving back into place, straddling Will’s hips; and Will can’t help squirming against the sheets as he is treated to one hell of a show. Grins widely and wickedly as he watches Santiago reach back, slowly working a finger into himself and Will groans, clutches onto the scarves with an iron grip, because he needs something to anchor himself. 

“Yeah babe, fuck, come on.” Ironhead barely even recognizes his own voice as Santiago shivers above him at the words; and isn’t that interesting. Maybe Will doesn’t have to have his hands to help, maybe his voice will be enough to knock him off kilter. “Gonna open yourself up for me huh? Shit, wanna fuck you so bad like this- wreck you.”

“S-shut up…” Santiago pants, waving his free hand towards the blond, only to cut the motion short and brace himself on Wills chest when he slips a third finger along side the other two. And it’s been so long since Santiago’s had to do this for himself, Will much more than happy to take the other man apart with his hands, that it almost feels like a different touch altogether. Makes himself relax into the stretch of it.

“Gods, look at you,” Will mutters, because he can’t look away. “Gorgeous. Fuck Pope, come on, curl your fingers babe, you know how I wanna see you.”

Almost like his fingers have a mind of their own, Santiago follows Will’s demand without hesitation, curls his fingers and feels his knuckles bump against his prostate. Heat blinds him for a moment, and Santiago can’t stop the sharp gasps escaping him. Breathless little ‘ahs’ and Santiago can’t stop the small tremor starting to crawl it’s way up his legs the more he presses… he jerks his hand away sharply, panting heavily and glaring down at Will who only looks back at him innocently. 

“S-such an ass..” Santiago mutters, and in a move that is both necessary and a bit of revenge, uses his already slick fingers to take Will’s cock in hand and drops a bead of cold lube on the swollen head. 

The headboard creaks and Will hisses out a curse at the move, blue eyes narrowed now. “Oh I’m the ass?” 

But Santiago doesn’t reply, he’s almost at his limit for teasing… even for him. It’s desperate, the way Santi holds him and Will moans throatily at it, and then it’s nothing but white noise in his head as Pope slides down, down down down and-

“Gods, fuck…Pope, please.” Will growls out. 

Pope just bites his lip, bears down until there’s nothing left to take. Fingernails digging into any skin he can find with a desperation Santiago only wanted to inflict on Will. Then their hips are flush and Santiago really can’t help the long low moan that breaks from him. It’s more noise than either of them are used to making, but gods, fuck… he’s so full, stretched just perfectly and Santiago wonders which one of them is going to burn up first.

Then... then he moves... and Will’s been tortured before. But that has nothing on this. The slow burn, the hollow unfulfilled ache... it’s the entire universe in motion and heat. 

And it feel endless. 

At least until Santiago stutters above him, winces infinitesimally, barely noticeable but Will’s entire attention is focuses on him and he does his best to gather whatever brain cells are left to him. 

“Your knees-” Will hisses, realization stark through the haze of lust fogging his brain. His knuckles are white with his grip against the blue silk linking him to the headboard.

“Are fine.” Santiago huffs, voice almost completely breathless. His knees do ache, something wicked, and it’s not the glimmer of pain Santi usually likes when it comes to sex. But Christ, just looking down at Will still trapped beneath him, still willingly keeping himself tied and prone under him… it’s all fucking worth a bit of discomfort. 

Will grunts, moan lodged in his throat as his eyes slipped closed once more. Above him Santiago lifts up slowly, until Will almost slips out of him, and sinks back down in a motion so fluid it’s like being torn to shreds on a pyre of his own making.

Will thinks he’s getting his metaphors mixed up, but in light of the way the shorter man is moving over him, over him and on him, Will thinks he can be excused. “F-fuck, Pope.”

“Im pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’.” A smirk plays in Santi’s voice and it’s got a dangerous edge to it, enough to have Will’s eyes shooting open, just in time to watch golden skin stretch as Santiago leans back.... back and back until his lands land on Will’s thighs, pinning him even more to the bed.

The noise Will makes can only be classified as a snarl and the dark part of his mind wonders if he has enough leverage to just break the headboard. He doesn’t. Doesn’t have the leverage to move at all, and it should trigger every single one of his reflexes, every instinct should be flaring to life-- but there’s nothing. Just the sudden hot clench of Santiago around him as the position shifts him to press Will just right inside him, and Will grapples at every ounce of sheer willpower left to him not to finish right there.

It must take the pressure off of Popes knees, because Santiago sighs beautifully and proceeds to ride him like that for so long Will loses the ability to count every passing, straining moment.

Until finally, fucking finally, Will thinks, Santiago moves and curls himself back over Will, blocking him in with muscled arms and a trembling frame; a wild, desperate look dancing in blown black eyes.

Will is leaning up to catch his mouth in a heartbeat, teeth and tongue rougher than normal in the way of pent up arousal and the need to move. Gods, Will needs to move, need Santi to stop fucking teasing-

“Alrig’t, alrig’t,” Santiago moans, practically tearing his mouth away from Will’s and it’s only then that the blond realizes that he’s been saying all that aloud.

Will barely feels it, it’s just a minuscule shift after all, as Pope leans down that little bit further, takes Will’s hands in his own and it’s that...that little bit of moved weight… and Will feels every scant millimetre of freedom allowed by it.

It’s the leverage he needs and Will takes it all at once. 

Santiago has brought Will to the edge of his desperation, just like he asked if he could. He teased and played until Will thought he was going to lose control but he hasn’t. And now he’s going to make Santiago pay.

Because he can count in a heartbeat the times Pope has absolutely lost it, and number six was phenomenal, burning itself into place in Will’s memory. But this— 

Will moves in one fluid movement, coiled power and pure muscle shifting beneath his skin as he plants his feet and twists.

Santiago’s back hits the mattress, laugh stuttering out on a loud drawn out groan.

— This will make seven, Will smirks wildly, blue eyes blazing as Santiago curses and writhes beneath him as he snaps his hips relentlessly. Barely withdrawing before he’s plunging back in again; heavy panted breathes shared between them and Will gives no ground. Lets the gasps and the growls coalesce around them and Will feels it when Santiago finally breaks apart beneath him with a loud broken cry. Follows after him like he’s always done, in this and in everything else.

When Will finally has enough breath back, he pushes him self up from where he has collapsed over Santiago. He takes in the heaving chest, the small twitches and jolts as aftershocks run through the other mans veins. Satisfaction sings in his own and Will nuzzles the sweat slick collarbone readily available to his teeth.

“Ah!” Santiago gasps, meaning to lift a hand to bat the blond away, but Will’s fingers are still laced through his up by the headboard and the soft blue silk is still wrapped firmly around Ironheads wrists. It would truly be a sight, Santiago imagines, no energy left to glance up or untangle them, even as Will’s lips keep climbing up the bared line of his throat.

“You good?” Will chuckles into tan skin when he gets his breath back, buries his face into the crown of greying black curls splayed out on the pillow like a broken faded halo.

Santiago makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and doesn’t open his eyes. “... fuck... you’re such a cunt.” He grumbles. “ I donno if I can even fucking walk now.”

Will bits his lip to stifle a laugh and shifts to press a blue wrapped wrist to his teeth. 

Wonders if he can try for eight while Santiago is too blissed out to stop him. Even things back out again. 

“S’not like you got anywhere you need to be.”


End file.
